


you are not mine to ask things of

by merricats_sugarbowl



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Barista Lexa, Bisexual Clarke Griffin, Clarke is exhausted all the time, F/F, Fluff, Getting Together, Lexa pines from the counter, Lincoln flirts on coffee cups, Med Student Clarke, Misunderstandings, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-04
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-11 14:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5630014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merricats_sugarbowl/pseuds/merricats_sugarbowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Maybe it’s because she not a student, or maybe it’s because she’s an avid tea drinker, but she doesn’t really understand the hype, if she’s being totally honest. Coffee smells bad, even doused in whipped cream and sugary syrups and flavoured dusting powder. A small cup of coffee at the Grind costs almost twice as much as a cup of tea, because the coffee is “artisanal”, though Lexa knows for a fact that there’s nothing special about the beans they use for the house blend.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>But despite that, the Grind has a steady flow of regular customers, all with a loyal attachment to a particular order. After a month, Lexa is able to recognise them all.</i>
</p>
<p>As a barista at the local coffee shop in a small college town, Lexa gets to know her customers pretty well. New faces are rare, until one day a blonde with bags under her eyes and a stack of medical books walks into the Grind, and Lexa finds herself wanting to know more about her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are not mine to ask things of

**Author's Note:**

> The Clexa coffeeshop au that I posted about on my Tumblr weeks ago has arrived at last, because once again I'm avoiding all of the actual work I have to do. Oh well, I actually really like this one and think it's super cute, so it's worth it, I guess. Title taken from Ingrid Michaelson's "Incredible Love", for no real reason other than the fact that I was listening to it when I finished writing this.
> 
> (Also, writing this has led me to realise that I kind of love the idea of a Lexa/Miller friendship. Just me?)
> 
> You can find me [here](http://spasmodictricksofradiance.tumblr.com) on Tumblr.

One thing Lexa’s discovered since starting to work at the local college coffee shop is that college students are _serious_ about their coffee.

Maybe it’s because she not a student, or maybe it’s because she’s an avid tea drinker, but she doesn’t really understand the hype, if she’s being totally honest. Coffee smells bad, even doused in whipped cream and sugary syrups and flavoured dusting powder. A small cup of coffee at the Grind costs almost twice as much as a cup of tea, because the coffee is “artisanal”, though Lexa knows for a fact that there’s nothing special about the beans they use for the house blend.

But despite that, the Grind has a steady flow of regular customers, all with a loyal attachment to a particular order. After a month, Lexa is able to recognise them all.

There’s Bellamy, the grad student who comes in every Tuesday morning at nine a.m. to pick up his americano before going to class. He always seems to be in a rush, or maybe he’s just not interested in talking to his barista early in the morning, but he’s always polite and leaves a tip in the jar. There’s not much else that Lexa could want in a customer.

He’s sometimes accompanied by a pretty girl with long dark hair, younger than him, Lexa thinks, but not a girlfriend. They have an easy camaraderie, the kind that only comes from having grown up together. The first few times she comes in, she just orders a pastry, so there’s no need to ask for her name. She finally orders a drink on a rainy morning in early October and Lexa discovers that her name is Octavia, and also that she’s got a wicked sweet tooth; her coffee is more sugar than caffeine.

Then there’s Jasper and Monty, who always come together and always order at least two extra shots of espresso each. Lexa watches them sometimes when they drink their coffee in the Grind, fascinated by their friendship. Sometimes they catch her looking and invite her to join them on her break, but she declines every time. She can tell that she makes them nervous, but she can’t help it.

Miller is one who Lexa can’t quite figure out at first. He usually comes at the same time every day, three fifteen, and orders a vanilla latte and an oatmeal raisin cookie. Then he sits at a table by the window like he’s waiting for something. It takes Lexa a week or two to realise that he _is_ waiting for someone—Monty and Jasper, who arrive every day at four. He never speaks to them, but Lexa quickly deduces that he’s nursing a crush on one of them (Monty, she thinks) and his trips to the Grind are more about pining than anything else.

Raven is another face she comes to recognise, a no-nonsense engineering student who is _very_ specific about the temperature of her chai latte. High maintenance customers usually irritate Lexa, but she likes Raven. Maybe it’s her quick wit or her good looks—admittedly, they don’t hurt—but there’s something about her that makes Lexa think they could be friends. Sometimes she slips her a brownie when Anya isn’t looking, and in return, Raven leaves jokes scrawled on napkins in the tip jar.

Lexa gets used to working at the coffee shop, finds her niche with her coworkers and her job. She doesn’t understand the hype about the coffee, but she starts to look forward to seeing her regulars. An advantage of working at the college coffee shop, she decides, is the fact that so many customers _are_ regulars; she’s rarely caught off guard by an unfamiliar face.

Until one day, she is.

She’s working an evening shift, covering for Lincoln, who’s not feeling well. Usually Lexa works mornings and afternoons. This is the first time that she’s worked past six, so she probably shouldn’t be surprised to see a girl approach who isn’t part of the regular crowd.

Except that she is.

The girl is pretty, with blonde hair that tumbles over her shoulders in beachy waves. She’s dressed comfortably in a crewneck sweater and a pair of snug blue jeans, tucked into boots. She’s hauling a heavy bag with her and as she gets closer to the counter, Lexa can see the dark circles under her eyes, the slight strain at the edge of her lips, the unhealthy pallor of her skin.

The girl is pretty, but she looks exhausted.

“Hi,” the blonde says, drawing Lexa out of her reverie. “Could I get a large long macchiato with an extra shot?”

Lexa’s already expertly scrawling the order on one of the Grind’s signature green cups. “Your name?”

“Clarke.”

It’s an unusual name, Lexa thinks as she finishes the ‘e’ with a flourish. She adds a smiley face for good measure, because she knows that customers are more likely to tip when they think the barista is flirting with them. And she wouldn’t necessarily mind flirting with this girl. There’s something about her that makes Lexa’s skin heat up and her palms sweat.

She sets the drink on the counter and rings it up. “Four ninety-five,” she tells Clarke. “Anything else?”

Clarke just shakes her head and hands her a five dollar bill and mutters a thank you, picking up her drink and disappearing to a table before Lexa can hand her the change. Lexa watches her go surreptitiously, feeling slightly guilty as she notes how impressive the view from behind is.

 

* * *

 

She takes on more evening shifts after that.

She’s surprised to find that her regulars show up in the evening, too; Jasper and Monty practically live in the Grind, from what she can tell, and by extension, so does Miller. Bellamy and Octavia seem to like a dose of caffeine in the evening as well as the morning, and Bellamy turns out to be a lot more talkative when he’s not rushing to get to class. Raven also shows up from time to time, though when she does come in the evenings, she’s usually accompanied by Wick, a scruffy blond from her class.

The first time Lexa saw them together she raised an eyebrow suggestively and earned a rude gesture for her troubles. While Wick was in the bathroom, Raven was quick to explain that they were just friends, though from the way Wick looks at her, Lexa’s sure he’d like to be more than that.

Clarke becomes one of her regulars.

From observing her, Lexa learns that she’s very studious. She never comes to the Grind without a stack of books, and unlike other customers who come to the shop to “study”, Clarke _actually_ seems to spend her time there working. Some carefully planned trips to Clarke’s table to collect empty cups allow Lexa to deduce that she’s pre-med, which explains the circles under her eyes and the constant exhaustion that seems to emanate from her.

She finds herself oddly enamoured with the blonde, to the point that she makes sure she’s behind the counter whenever Clarke looks like she’s getting ready to place an order. She draws on her coffee cups constantly—smiley faces, hearts, stars, flowers—though Clarke never seems to notice. She slips her a free cookie once or twice, though she earns nothing for her troubles other than a slightly confused look and a hasty thank you.

She’s afraid that she’s coming off like a lovesick puppy.

“You’re staring again,” Lincoln tells her as he’s wiping down a table, and Lexa looks down at her feet guiltily.

One of the advantages of taking on more evening shifts is getting to work with Lincoln. He’s older than her by a few years, charming and witty and not afraid to speak his mind. He keeps her in check when Clarke’s around, letting her know if she’s being too obvious or giving off creepy vibes. She’s grateful, but she can’t let him know that. He’d never let her live it down.

“Oh, like you weren’t staring at Octavia five minutes ago,” she says as she tidies the pastry case.

If Lexa’s got a crush on Clarke, then Lincoln definitely has a crush on Octavia. Usually, Lincoln radiates a toughness that makes people wary; when Octavia is around, he melts, becoming softer and more approachable than a kindergarten teacher.

In his case, Lexa’s fairly certain that the feelings are returned. Octavia’s almost always looking over at the counter when Lincoln’s working. If Lexa’s at the register, she’ll wait until she takes her break to order. She’s invited Lincoln to sit with her and her brother more than once when the shop is quiet.

It’s sweet, waiting for the two of them to get together. Lexa wishes she could say the same for her and Clarke, but the blonde is either oblivious to her feelings or purposely ignoring them.

Lexa’s not sure which of those options is worse.

 

* * *

 

Raven, she learns, is a friend of Clarke’s.

“I don’t know if friends is the right term,” Raven admits. It’s early on a Saturday morning in November and she’s the only customer in the shop, so she’s leaning against the counter to talk to Lexa while she sets up for the day.

“What would be the right term, then?”

“Ambivalent acquaintances?” Raven tries. “I don’t know. We were roommates in freshman year. We got along at first, but then there was an incident with my boyfriend and we were on bad terms for a while. I found out later that most of the stuff with Finn wasn’t her fault, but by then things were pretty awkward. We might have sorted our shit out if we had to live together for another year, but we both got assigned singles in sophomore year, so that was the end of it.” She shrugs. “Que sera, sera.”

Lexa tries not to let her disappointment show on her face. “So she’s straight.”

“Narrow-minded,” Raven says, swatting at her arm. “There are other sexualities besides ‘hetero’ and ‘homo’, Lexa. And no, she’s not straight. As far as I know, Clarke falls solidly on the middle of the Kinsey scale.”

“So I’ve got a chance?”

“Not if you keep up the weird pining-from-afar shit. Why don’t you ask her out?”

Lexa thinks on it for a moment and then shakes her head.

She’d like to ask Clarke out. She imagines Clarke all dressed up to go on a date; pictures her blonde hair tumbling over the straps of a little black dress, her long legs looking longer still beneath a short skirt and strapped into high heels. She pictures the two of them wandering through the city at night time, hands linked together, talking about something completely irrelevant. She even allows her mind to wander to the ‘after’ of it all, to the two of them in Lexa’s apartment, or maybe Clarke’s, thinks of hands roaming over skin and teeth nipping at necks and whispered moans in the darkness.

That’s just a fantasy, and she knows it.

“I think maybe I’ll just stick to drawing hearts on her coffee cup for now,” she says, and earns an eye roll from Raven.

 

* * *

 

One night after Lexa hands Clarke her macchiato, she’s surprised to see the blonde head to a table that’s already occupied, despite the fact that the shop is almost empty. Even more surprising is the fact that the people she decides to join are Jasper and Monty, two of Lexa’s regulars. Unable to resist her curiosity, Lexa watches them out of the corner of her eye.

Clarke is smiling, talking a mile a minute while Jasper and Monty nod along, interjecting every now and then with words of their own. Belatedly, Lexa realises that Clarke doesn’t have any books with her tonight. She’s here to socialise—with _Jasper and Monty_ , who she’s apparently friends with.

For the rest of the night, Lexa finds herself distracted. She can’t help it; Clarke’s always been alone at the Grind, never shown any indication of knowing the other regulars who frequent the shop. Seeing her with Monty and Jasper feels strange and unsettling.

After she burns her hand for the third time in the space of ten minutes, Anya tells her to go home. Lexa feels a little bit guilty at leaving Anya in the lurch, but the pull of a night off is too tempting to resist, so she shrugs on her coat and heads for the door. As she passes Clarke, Monty and Jasper, she hears her name.

It’s Jasper who calls her, and she sees that he’s smiling when she turns around.

“Finished your shift?” he asks, and Lexa gives a slight nod.

“I’m a danger to myself and others around me,” she says, holding up her burnt hand, wrapped in a clean white bandage.

“Ouch,” Monty says sympathetically.

“I second that,” Jasper says, wrinkling his nose. “Do you want to have coffee with us?” he adds after a moment. “I mean, I know you spend all day making coffee so you probably don’t want to, but you can, if you do. Want to, I mean.”

He’s tripping over his words, babbling a mile a minute, and Lexa has to fight the urge to smile. She still makes him nervous, but he’s reaching out and trying to make friends with her. It’s sweet, in a bumbling sort of way.

Her gaze flickers to Clarke’s and she allows herself to imagine the possibility of saying yes. But Clarke’s eyes dart away almost instantly, and Lexa shakes off the daydream.

“Thanks, but I think I’m just going to head home,” she says. “You guys enjoy it though. Night.”

They call goodnights after her and Lexa leaves, the door swinging shut behind her.

 

* * *

 

A few days later, Lexa’s working a morning shift when Clarke comes in.

She’s cleaning the espresso machine when she comes in, so Lexa doesn’t notice her at first. She’s too busy trying to make the machine usable before the morning rush to notice Clarke approaching the counter, and the noise of the machine as it clears out the residue from the day before is loud enough that she doesn’t hear the blonde’s greeting, either. It’s not until she straightens up that she catches sight of the familiar blonde waves, and then she’s caught off guard by the fact that Clarke is here in the _morning._

She’s never been here in the morning before.

“Hi,” Clarke says.

“Hi,” Lexa returns, trying to shake off her confusion before Clarke starts to think there’s something wrong with her. “Uh, the usual?”

“Thanks.” Clarke sets her five dollar bill down on the counter while Lexa gets started on her drink, and then she leans against the counter, humming a tune under her breath. There’s something different about her today. She’s more relaxed, Lexa thinks.

“Good mood?” she says as she fits a lid onto the coffee cup. Clarke smiles at her and if Lexa’s heart stutters a little at the sight, well, she doesn’t think anyone could blame her. Clarke doesn’t seem to smile very often, but when she does, it’s beautiful.

“You have _no_ idea,” Clarke tells her, accepting the cup with a quick thank you. “I just finished a night rotation at the maternity hospital. This is the first morning I’ve seen in three weeks.”

“Sounds tough.”

“Very,” Clarke agrees, “and I had exams on top of that, too. But it’s winter break now, so I can finally stop worrying about school and just relax.”

To Lexa’s surprise, Clarke doesn’t seem eager to go find a table; she’s leaning against the counter, hands clasped around her coffee cup, chatting easily to Lexa as if the two of them are old friends.

“That’s good,” Lexa says, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for Clarke to excuse herself.

But it doesn’t happen. She stays leaning against the counter until other customers begin to arrive, and even then, she just pulls a stool up to the end of the counter instead. She chats to Lexa between customers, telling her about what it’s like being pre-med and how much more exhausting it is than she expected. Lexa answers as best she can, though she’s still bemused by the entire situation.

Clarke leaves just before Lexa’s due to take her break, but not before smiling at her again and telling her to enjoy the rest of the day. Lexa watches the door of the Grind swing shut behind her and wonders if she actually spent her morning talking to Clarke or if it was some kind of strange fever dream.

When Lincoln arrives for his shift and she tells him, he shakes his head and says she must have imagined it.

“The only thing that girl knows how to say is ‘long macchiato’,” he says teasingly.

Lexa tells him about the other night and how Clarke sat with Jasper and Monty, but Lincoln just shrugs and says that he’ll believe it when he sees it.

 

* * *

 

Just two days later, he sees it.

It’s mid-afternoon and both Lincoln and Lexa are working, dealing with the busy pre-Christmas rush while Anya sits in the back office to plan the Christmas party. Their town is a college town, but it’s also a popular shopping destination, so the weeks leading up to the holidays are always crazy. Right now, the Grind is packed to bursting. Every table is occupied and people have taken to hovering around the shop instead, preferring to stand and drink their coffee rather than take it into the chilly air outside.

Lincoln’s taking orders while Lexa makes the drinks. It’s busy enough that they don’t really have much time to talk, but that doesn’t stop Lincoln from nudging Lexa gently with his elbow when the door swings open to admit Bellamy and Octavia.

“I’m asking her out,” he says under his breath. Lexa tries not to let the surprise show on her face.

“Now?”

“Yeah, now,” Lincoln says, handing her a cup with a hastily scribbled order on the side. “I’m going to put my number on her coffee cup.”

It’s a cute idea, Lexa thinks, but she’s not sure if asking Octavia out via coffee cup is a good plan when she’s here with her brother. But she knows that there’s no talking to Lincoln, so she steps out of earshot when Octavia and Bellamy step up to order. When Lincoln gives her the order, she’s careful not to smudge the number scrawled beneath the lip of Octavia’s cup. She adds an extra squirt of chocolate syrup and a swirl of whipped cream to Octavia’s mocha and then hands it over.

“What did you say?” Lexa asks as Bellamy and Octavia disappear in search of a table. They don’t find one of their own, but there are a few spare seats by Jasper and Monty; evidently, the four know each other, because Bellamy and Octavia sit down there without a second thought. Lexa’s stopped being surprised by her customers knowing each other; evidently, her small college town is even smaller than she initially thought.

“The usual,” Lincoln says. “Asked for her order and told her to have a nice day. She’ll see the number on the cup.”

There are a lot of things that could go wrong with this plan, Lexa knows. Octavia could throw the cup away without ever glancing at it closely. She could think that Lexa, making the drinks, is the one who left the number. She could miss the point entirely and not realise that this is Lincoln’s subtle way of saying that he likes her.

But if it goes right, it’s going to be a great story.

She keeps an eye on Octavia for the next few minutes, waiting to see if she’ll spot the attempt, but before it happens, Lexa’s attention is drawn elsewhere. The front door of the Grind opens to admit Clarke, cheeks flushed from the wind outside, blonde hair tangled up in the threads of a silver grey scarf. Lincoln nudges Lexa in the side again but this time she swats at him.

“Stop it,” she says, and he grins.

“Want me to put your number on the cup?”

“Don’t you dare, Lincoln.”

Clarke orders her usual, giving Lexa another of her rare smiles when she hands the drink across the counter. Then she turns to scan the shop for a seat, biting down on her lip nervously. For a moment, Lexa thinks that she’ll admit defeat and take her drink to go, but then she spots Jasper and Monty and makes a beeline for their table. There aren’t any chairs left, but she leans against the wall beside them and starts to talk, and it dawns on Lexa that she must be friends with Bellamy and Octavia as well.

_Small world,_ she thinks, but she doesn’t have time to ruminate on it because Lincoln comes up beside her.

“Well,” he says, sounding surprised. “Guess I was wrong. She _does_ have friends.”

“I told you,” Lexa says.

“You should’ve let me give her your number.”

 

* * *

 

Raven invites Lexa to her Christmas party.

“You should have some fun,” she tells her as she swirls her finger around the lip of a cup of lukewarm chai tea. “All you do is work. There’s more to life than making cappuccinos and coming up with witty slogans for the specials board.”

“I wouldn’t know anyone,” Lexa protests. She earns a snort of derision from Raven.

“Bullshit. You’ll know a ton of people. Wick’s going to be there, and Bellamy and Octavia. Jasper and Monty.” She grins toothily. “Clarke.”

Lexa allows her mind to wander for a moment to thoughts of Clarke decked out in festive red and gold, with a drink in her hand and a laugh on her lips. She thinks about eggnog and low lighting and strategically placed mistletoe. She thinks about getting caught underneath it with Clarke.

“Alright,” she hears herself say. “I’ll go.”

The party is at the house that Raven shares with three other students, all of whom Lexa’s seen at the Grind more than once. She feels awkward and out of place when she first arrives, an outsider walking into a house populated entirely by college students, but it’s not long before she’s spotted by someone she knows. It’s Wick, Raven’s not-boyfriend, who accosts her with a bear hug and presses a glass of something blue and bubbly into her hands.

“Lexa!” he shouts, his breath warm against her ear. “Merry Christmas!”

It’s clear that he’s already had a lot to drink, but Lexa doesn’t mind the hug or the shouted greeting. She returns his embrace loosely and then pulls back to sniff at the drink that he’s handed her, wrinkling her nose at it.

“What’s in this?”

“Sugar,” Wick says, “sugar and alcohol.” He grins. “The two basic food groups. Hey, come on back to the kitchen, Raven said to bring you out there when you got here.”

She barely has time to take a sip of the mystery drink before Wick is wrapping his fingers around hers and dragging her through the throngs of people into the kitchen at the back of the house. It’s less crowded in here, and Lexa’s relieved to see that she recognises most of the people standing around the island.

Raven’s in the centre of the room, hair pulled into her signature messy ponytail, though her attire for the evening is considerably fancier than anything she’s worn to the Grind. She’s talking to a girl that Lexa vaguely recognises—her name is Monroe, she thinks—but when her eyes find Lexa, she halts the conversation, grinning widely.

“You actually came!” she says, advancing on Lexa and throwing her arms around her neck. “I thought you were gonna bail.”

“I’m here,” Lexa says with a shrug, spreading her hands wide. “Uh, what’s going on in here?”

“Drinking games,” Raven says cheerfully. “We were just playing Never Have I Ever. Did you know that Monty’s never kissed a girl?”

“I’m a gold star gay,” Monty calls over. He’s leaning against one of the countertops, looking a little worse for wear, though he’s grinning widely. Lexa has to resist the urge to smile herself when she sees Miller standing behind him, clearly ready to catch him if he topples over.

“That’s great, Monty,” Lexa says, earning a cheer in response. She raises an eyebrow at Raven. “I’ll play.”

She’s hustled over to stand around the island with the rest of the group, and then Raven spins the empty beer bottle lying on the countertop until it comes to a halt in front of Harper, a girl who always comes to the Grind for a vanilla latte on a Thursday afternoon. She scrunches up her nose, considering, and then raises her glass.

“Never have I ever had sex in a public place,” she says. There’s a beat and then Raven raises her glass to her lips, prompting wolf whistles from the rest of the group.

“Settle down, kids,” she says derisively, “it wasn’t like I put on a show. I had sex with my ex-boyfriend in the bathroom of a movie theatre from our hometown, it really wasn’t all that scandalous.”

The look on Wick’s face is priceless.

Harper spins the bottle this time and it comes to a stop on Jasper, who looks all of a sudden like a deer caught in headlights.

“Uh, never have I ever done anything with someone of the opposite sex?” he says weakly. Lexa counts the people who take a drink, surprised by some of them—Raven, Harper, Monty, Miller, herself. She wishes that Clarke were here, just to see her admit that she’s been with girls before.

The game peters out after a while as they grow bored. Raven wanders off to network with her guests. Wick, Harper and Miller somehow fall into an intense argument about video games. Monty slides down to sit on the kitchen floor with his head on Jasper’s shoulders, and the two of them start a conversation that looks serious.

Lexa decides that she needs more alcohol.

She finds the drinks table in the living room, where she also finds Bellamy, Octavia and Lincoln. Octavia and Lincoln are squeezed into one of the armchairs together, limbs so tangled up in each other that it’s difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins. Their heads are bent close, Octavia’s hair falling over her face to brush Lincoln’s arm. It looks incredibly intimate, which might account for the scowl twisting Bellamy’s lips when Lexa goes to refill her cup.

“Merry Christmas, Bellamy,” she says. He nods at her.

“Merry Christmas. Having fun yet?”

She is, but she can’t help scanning the room for Clarke, waiting for her to appear. She’s not the only reason that Lexa came to this party, but that doesn’t mean that she can’t still want her to be there. This is a chance for the two of them to talk in a real social situation, outside of the restrictions of the coffee shop. It might be Lexa’s only chance to show Clarke that she’s actually a fun person to be around.

But she doesn’t want to spend the entire night looking for someone who might not appear, so she fills up her drink and decides that she’s going to have fun instead. She checks in with Lincoln and Octavia, who are sweet but clearly want to be left alone. Bellamy’s in protective big brother mode, too busy scowling at them to be a decent conversationalist, so Lexa returns to the kitchen and commandeers the first person she sees—Miller.

She likes Miller. He’s moody and he frowns a lot, but even though she doesn’t know him very well, she can tell that he’s the kind of person that she instinctively wants to be friends with.

“How’s your night going?” she asks, settling in beside him and taking a swig of her drink. “Has the gold star gay noticed you staring yet?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says defensively, but all it takes is for Lexa to raise her eyebrows and then he suddenly starts to spill everything. For the next few minutes, Lexa learns all about how Miller and Monty met, and how Miller’s been head over heels ever since.

She decides it’s not a bad way to spend the evening.

 

* * *

 

Clarke arrives an hour or two later with a boy in tow, and Lexa feels foolish about the spark of jealousy that ignites in her stomach.

From what she can hear as Clarke greets everyone, the boy’s name is Wells, and he’s tall and handsome, and Clarke hangs off his arm like she belongs there. Lexa’s sitting on the floor with Miller when they come into the kitchen, so it takes a few minutes for Clarke to spot her. If she was alone, Lexa might jump up and go say hello, but Wells’s presence stops her.

She never considered the possibility that Clarke would bring a date.

When Clarke finally sees her, Lexa plasters a smile on her face, because she’ll be damned if she lets anybody see how much it bothers her that Clarke is seeing someone. She gets to her feet and accepts a hug from Clarke, who’s already pink-cheeked and giggling, clearly already having drank a lot.

“You look so different without your apron,” Clarke tells her. “And your hair’s down, what is this?”

She reaches out and wraps a finger around one of Lexa’s curls, tugging until it springs back to frame her face. Lexa steps back a little, not because she doesn’t enjoy the contact, but because she feels guilty for enjoying it when Clarke’s boyfriend is standing just a few feet away.

“I thought about wearing the apron,” Lexa says. “It’s really the most fashionable thing I own.”

Clarke shakes her head. “Not true. This dress is amazing.”

Lexa has to force a smile. “Thanks.”

Wells inches forwards then and Clarke lets out a shout and tugs him close, giggling. “Lexa, this is Wells,” she says. “Wells, this is Lexa. She’s—”

“The barista everyone can’t stop talking about,” Wells finishes, and Lexa feels a pang of jealousy.

They finish each other’s sentences.

“Oh, really?” she says. “They’re saying good things, I hope.”

“Great things,” Clarke tells her. “I know they say that service with a smile is what you want, but I prefer my service with a scowl.” She laughs at her own joke like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. Wells shakes his head, but he’s grinning at Lexa, who feels suddenly as if the room is closing in on her.

“Excuse me,” she says, ducking around Clarke and Wells and heading for the door that leads to the backyard. “I need some air.”

She makes it to the sliding patio doors and slips out into the cool night air. She’s wearing a strapless dress, so the cold is a little unbearable, but anything is better than standing in that too hot kitchen talking to Clarke and Wells. She wraps her arms around herself in a vain attempt to keep warm and perches on the edge of one of the folding patio seats, staring into the dark garden.

She thinks that it might be easier to see Clarke and Wells together if it wasn’t for the fact that she knows her jealousy is irrational. Clarke’s not her friend; she’s barely an acquaintance. She’s someone who orders coffee from Lexa, who probably never thinks about her apart from the five minutes a day when she places her order. Lexa can’t be angry or upset that Clarke’s in a relationship. She’s not even part of Clarke’s life.

Knowing that somehow makes the knowledge that she has a boyfriend even worse. It feels like a kick to the gut when she’s already on the ground.

She thinks that she might just sit out here for the rest of the night feeling sorry for herself while the frost nips at her skin, but then the patio door opens and Miller emerges, looking flushed and happy.

“There you are,” he says, rubbing his hands together in an effort to keep warm. “Why are you hiding out here?”

“I just needed some air,” Lexa says. “You look happy. Did something happen with Monty?”

Miller’s trying to look casual, but she can tell from the way his lip twitches that she’s guessed right. She’s happy for him—even when her own love life is going nowhere, Lexa’s always been able to find space to be happy for the lucky ones. And she’s been rooting for Monty and Miller ever since she started working at the Grind, so it’s somewhat of a consolation prize, if she can’t have Clarke.

“He’s drunk,” Miller says, “so he probably won’t even remember it tomorrow, but we made out a little. Probably could’ve gone further, but…” He trails off. “He’s drunk. I don’t want to take advantage.”

Lexa’s heart twinges. “You’re a good guy, Miller.”

“The best,” he corrects, settling into the seat beside her. “Do you want to tell me what you’re really doing out here?”

“Hiding.”

“From what?”

“There’s someone that I like,” Lexa says. “A lot. I thought maybe I might have a chance, but I found out tonight that she’s with someone, so. That’s that, I guess.”

Miller makes a noise of sympathy at the back of his throat. “Her loss,” he says. “You’re great, Lexa. Come on, don’t hide out here all night. Come inside and get drunk with me. Find someone to make out with.” He grins at her. “The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, you know.”

“I don’t want to make out with anyone,” Lexa says.

“Fine, then let’s just get smashed. Before he got too drunk to walk properly, Monty mixed up a bowl of punch with the ends of a ton of bottles and all the fruit juice in the refrigerator,” he tells her, and when she wrinkles her nose, he shakes his head. “No, it actually tastes pretty good. Raven was saving it for the end of the night, but I bet she won’t mind if we break it out early.”

Lexa weighs her options and decides that Miller’s right. It’s Christmas—there’s no reason for her to sit out here alone all night. Getting drunk sounds like an excellent plan. And if she’s with Miller, she’s pretty sure that she can avoid Clarke all night.

 

* * *

 

Miller was right. Monty’s punch is amazing.

Lexa’s had about four glasses of it so far, and her head is swimming pleasantly. She’s finding it more than a little difficult to focus her eyes—she spends several minutes talking to Octavia before she realises that she’s actually having a conversation with a lamp, and when she tries to head upstairs to go to the bathroom, she somehow ends up in the basement instead.

After their third glass of punch, Miller left Lexa to her own devices, and now he’s sitting on the couch with Monty, the two of their heads bent together as they talk. Lexa would be mad at him for leaving her alone, but she can’t be—she’s too happy to see him with Monty, too thrilled that at least someone gets to be with the person they want to be with.

It seems like Raven’s party has been an exercise in matchmaking. Monty and Miller aren’t the only ones sitting too close together; Octavia and Lincoln are still tangled up in the armchair they were in at the beginning of the night, but Bellamy’s not standing watch over them anymore. The last Lexa saw of him, he was in the kitchen with Fox, pressed up against her like he was trying to meld their bodies together. Jasper’s in the basement with a girl with dark wavy hair and big eyes, and even though they’re not kissing yet, Lexa’s pretty sure that that’s where they’re headed. Raven and Wick are in her bedroom.

It’s a night for hooking up, and Lexa’s sitting on the staircase alone.

At least, she’s alone until a familiar blonde comes stumbling out of the kitchen, tottering on her too-high heels and clutching at the wall for support. It’s Clarke, with a glass of Monty’s punch in her hands and her hair sticking out in all directions, like someone’s fingers have been running through it. Even through the haze of alcohol, Lexa feels a stab of jealousy at the thought that Wells and Clarke were probably just having sex, and that’s why Clarke, normally so put-together, is in such disarray.

“Lexa!” Clarke shouts. “Where’ve you been?”

“Around,” Lexa says, raising her glass to her lips and draining the last of her drink. She thinks about asking Clarke where she’s been, but then she might have to hear the gory details, and she really doesn’t think that she can handle that right now.

“I was looking for you,” Clarke says. “We didn’t get to talk earlier.”

“No,” Lexa agrees, “we didn’t.”

“I really wanted to talk to you, though.”

“You can talk to me now.”

“I can’t,” Clarke whines, “I’m too _drunk_ to do it now. I’ll say the wrong thing and mess everything up.”

Lexa wonders what there could possibly be between them to mess up. She doesn’t ask.

“Okay,” she says. “Tell me about your plans for Christmas, then.”

Clarke tells her that plane tickets home were too expensive, so she’s just hanging out here instead. She tells her about how Wells came all the way to visit so that she wouldn’t be alone for Christmas, but that’s just the kind of thing that he does. She tells her about how they’ve known each other since they were tiny, and how they have all of these traditions, and how happy she is that she gets to spend the holidays with him even if she can’t be with her family.

She talks and talks and Lexa falls a little bit more in love with her with every word that leaves her lips, and Lexa can’t help but think how disgustingly ironic it is that while that’s happening, she’s talking about Wells.

Lexa’s too caught up in Clarke’s words to notice her edging closer to her on the stairs. She’s spellbound by the lull of Clarke’s voice, and then before she’s even realised what’s happening, Clarke’s head is resting on her shoulder and her breath is hot against Lexa’s skin.

“Clarke,” Lexa says, a warning.

She’s drunk. She’s not going to be able to stop herself from doing something, and Clarke has a _boyfriend._

“Lexa,” Clarke replies, twisting her neck to look Lexa in the eye, and then they’re kissing.

Lexa’s not sure who moved first. All she knows is that Clarke tastes like punch and vodka and the chocolate truffles that Raven handed around earlier. Clarke’s lips are softer than Lexa imagined they would be, her grip stronger as her fingers find Lexa’s waist. Lexa’s not sure who started it, but when Clarke’s hand cups her cheek to angle her head and deepen the kiss, she knows who’s in control. For a moment, she’s on cloud nine, because this is exactly where she’s wanted to be for weeks.

And then reality comes crashing down.

Clarke’s fingers tangle in her hair, and Lexa’s reminded of the way her own beachy waves were mussed up when she came out to the hallway.

Lexa’s not the first person that Clarke’s made out with tonight.

She pulls away abruptly, barely registering the confusion in Clarke’s eyes before she’s getting to her feet and heading for the door.

She doesn’t bother saying goodnight.

 

* * *

 

Anya’s a huge fan of the holidays, so the Grind closes for two weeks over Christmas break. That means that Lexa has two weeks of vacation, and she spends most of them in her apartment feeling sorry for herself. She can’t stop thinking about how Clarke’s lips felt on hers or how her hair smelled like coconut or how much she wanted to keep kissing her on that staircase, even though she knew that it was wrong.

She feels guilty, and she hates feeling guilty.

She sees Lincoln once or twice over the holiday, but he’s mostly busy with Octavia. She goes for drinks with Anya. Miller comes over once and tells her that he and Monty are going on a date, and Lexa can be happy about that, at least. She tugs on his beanie hat and tells him that a gentleman never puts out on the first date, and Miller swats at her, but he’s hiding a grin.

Other than that, she’s alone, and she’s okay with it. Raven invites her to hang out, but she says no every time, afraid of running into Clarke and Wells. Octavia bugs her to go out on a double date with her and Lincoln, but Lexa wouldn’t even know who to ask. Jasper and Monty send her a Facebook message about a video game tournament at their apartment, but she’s not really a fan of video games, so she declines.

Somehow, Lexa’s regulars have become her friends, and she’s not entirely sure of how it happened, but she wishes that she hadn’t complicated things with them already by kissing Clarke.

Clarke texts her a lot over the break.

Lexa deletes them without opening them.

  

* * *

 

Lexa’s first day back at work is a Saturday, and she’s drawn the short straw, so she gets to open. She gets to the Grind at about six a.m. to start cleaning the shop and making sure all of the machines are ready to go. There’s something oddly peaceful about wiping down the counter by the register while it’s still dark outside. Lexa thinks that it’s probably the return to routine, but whatever it is, she’s not going to complain.

This is the best that she’s felt in weeks.

She’s setting out the croissants in the pastry case when the bell over the door rings, still an hour before opening. She looks up, a sigh already on her lips, ready to tell the intruder that they don’t open until eight, but the words never come out of her mouth.

The intruder is Clarke, standing on the threshold of the shop with her blonde hair tucked beneath a soft grey cap, looking more nervous than Lexa has ever seen her.

“We’re not open yet,” Lexa says, finding her voice again. Clarke shakes her head.

“I know. I saw the lights were on. I was hoping you’d be here. I wanted to talk.”

Lexa averts her gaze, returning to the task of arranging croissants. “There’s nothing to talk about, Clarke.”

“You can’t be serious,” Clarke says. Her disbelief makes Lexa wince.

“I am serious,” she says. “It was a mistake, alright? It shouldn’t have happened. Let’s just forget about it and move on.” Her eyes flicker to Clarke’s, pleading. “Please.”

Clarke blinks back at her. “ _Why_ was it a mistake?”

Lexa doesn’t want to do this, not when she’s staring down a nine hour shift and she hasn’t had breakfast yet. She can barely concentrate on what she’s doing, let alone have a serious discussion with Clarke about what happened between them.

Honestly, she doesn’t think she would _ever_ want to do this, but now seems like a particularly terrible time.

“You know why,” she says, setting a chocolate cake beside the fresh stack of croissants. “And I really don’t want to talk about it.”

“Well, I do,” Clarke says defiantly, “and you’re not the only one that this affects.”

She strides over to the counter and sits on the stool nearest to the pastry case, tugging off her gloves and her hat and laying them down on her lap. She looks at Lexa, gaze fierce, until she sighs and abandons the rest of the cakes on the counter.

“I like you, Clarke,” she says abruptly. “Is that it, you want me to admit it? I like you.”

“Lexa—”

“But,” Lexa interrupts, holding up a hand to stall Clarke. “I don’t want to be the girl that you cheat on your boyfriend with. I won’t be that girl. So I’m giving you a free pass—let’s forget that it ever happened and be friends. Okay?”

Clarke frowns. “No,” she says, “not okay, because _I don’t have a boyfriend._ ”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, and then Lexa returns Clarke’s frown with one of her own. “You broke up with Wells?”

“Wells and I were never together!” Clarke says incredulously. “He’s my best friend, Lexa. I’ve known him since we were born. He’s like a brother to me. I would never— _we_ would never—” She shakes her head, cutting herself off. “We’re not together. I would never have kissed you if we were.”

“So it was you who kissed me, then,” Lexa says, still struggling with the revelation that Clarke and Wells aren’t an item. “I thought it was the other way around. I’ve been beating myself up over being a home wrecker.”

“It was me,” Clarke confirms. “I’ve wanted to do it for weeks. A little alcohol, a dark stairway. It seemed like a great idea at the time.”

“Romantic.”

“I thought so.”

“Maybe you should have clarified your relationship status with Wells when you introduced him, though. Just a thought. You seem pretty close.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time I’m trying to seduce someone,” Clarke tells her with a grin. “So… you like me?”

Lexa winces. “Did I say that out loud?”

Still grinning, Clarke informs her that she did, and then leans over the counter to kiss her—their second kiss, better than the first, since neither one of them is under the influence.

Not that Lexa’s keeping score.

 

* * *

 

It’s been eight months since Lexa started to work at the Grind, and even though she still doesn’t understand the hype about coffee, she’s starting to come around.

It turns out that coffee smells better when Clarke brings it to her when she’s still tangled up in her sheets, and it tastes better when she’s tasting it on Clarke’s lips. Clarke’s on night rotations again, so she’s switched to drinking black coffee with extra espresso to keep her awake, but even that isn’t enough to put Lexa off. She likes to joke that she doesn’t need whipped cream or sugary syrups, because Clarke’s sweet enough to cut the bitterness.

The joke earns her an eye roll most of the time, but it’s almost always followed by a kiss, which makes it worth it.

 


End file.
